The path of Tien Lung Part 3
by Teek
Summary: Third and final part of a Kung Fu and Kung Fu: The Legend Continues crossover


The tale continues…

The others stared as Cricket held out his arms. There were no brands on the well-muscled forearms. Lo Si looked quite disturbed as he took hold of Cricket's arms. He scrutinized the places where the dragon and tiger should have been and shook his head.

"How can this be? You _are_ Shao-Lin. I sense it," the old man exclaimed, "You are very young but I know this is true."

Cricket shrugged and said, "There was not exactly anywhere that I could have taken the brands, Master. At least, not without going to China or somewhere else my father would have been killed."

"This is a problem. We must discuss this," the old man said to Caine and Matthew.

The older Caine men rose and made to follow Lo Si, who was headed for the basement. The Ancient stopped at the doorway and turned to face Cricket.

"Do not leave this place, Cricket," he ordered before heading down the steps.

Cricket sat back on the floor, his long legs settling into the lotus position. Peter looked at him curiously. He did not know what to think of the younger man who sat there so silently, seemingly staring into eternity. Eventually, though, the silence got to him.

"You sure threw a monkey wrench into the works," Peter said.

"Excuse me?" Cricket asked, his gaze coming back to the present.

"A monkey wrench. It means you messed up the Ancient's plans," Peter explained.

"Oh. I only told the truth," Cricket said.

"It's weird, though. The Ancient's never wrong about these things. I wonder what made him think you were Shao-Lin," Peter mused.

With a sigh, Cricket said, "I do not know. We always lived a Shao-Lin lifestyle or at least as close to it as possible living in this country."

"We?" Peter asked.

"We meaning my father and I. My mother died when I was just three months old," Cricket replied.

"Sorry to hear that. My mother died when I was two," Peter said, empathizing with the wistful tone of voice Cricket used, "She was an Indian?"

"Her name was Water Lily and she was half Chinese and half Cheyenne. She was the daughter of a runaway child of those that worked on the railway and the warrior that found her in the forest. I…never knew her," Cricket told him.

"Wow. I guess I was lucky to have Annie as a second mom," Peter commented.

"She is Mr. Blaisdell's wife then? He told me about you. You have had a hard path," Cricket said.

"Yeah, but it's worked out. Annie is the only mother I remember," Peter said.

"She sounds like a good woman. I think maybe Miss Alethea was the only one I might consider as being a mother to me," Cricket replied thoughtfully.

"Alethea? That name sounds familiar. Who was she?" Peter asked.

"Miss Alethea Ingram, my teacher--the one who made me read those Roman classics," Cricket replied with a grin, "My father met her when she was 11 and then, years later, she came to Feather Bluffs to be the school teacher."

"This is going to bug me. I know I've heard that name before," Peter stated.

Cricket shrugged and got to his feet. Starting some simple stretching exercises, he said, "It is not a common name. She told me it means 'truth' in Greek."

As Cricket began a series of tai chi exercises, he thought about the woman he called Miss Alethea. When she arrived in town, Cricket was surprised to see his father greet her as an old friend. Later, the two of them had a bit of a disagreement over Cricket's education. His father had never sent him to the town school, preferring instead to school his son at home. Alethea had insisted that he needed a more rounded education. In a compromise, his father agreed to have her come out to the house once a week to tutor the boy in whatever she felt was necessary. In the end, Cricket was sure his father did not regret the decision. Alethea had not only educated the boy but loved him as well, often bringing both father and son sweaters and warm clothing she had hand-made. 

Peter watched Cricket go through the graceful tai chi movements. In Peter's eyes, the younger man's actions were performed with the skill of a Master. It seemed really weird to talk to someone who thought of his great-grandfather as still in the present. The only thing he knew of the man came from what Matthew had told him and from his journals. The journals…

"That's it!" Peter suddenly exclaimed.

Startled, Cricket stopped in mid-form and turned around. Calmly he inquired, "What are you talking about?"

"My great-grandfather's journals! That's where I know the name Alethea from. I remember reading it in there," Peter replied.

"You have his journals?" Cricket asked.

"Sure. Pop- I mean my father gave them to me," Peter told him.

"I…I would like to see them, if that is possible," Cricket said.

"Ordinarily, I don't keep them with me but they're down in my car because of the exhibition. Stay here-- I'll be right back," Peter said as he headed out the door.

Comparing notes…

When Peter came back inside, Cricket was seated on the Ancient's sofa. The young man had his backpack open and was taking things out of it. Already on the table were several books and a package wrapped in red silk. 

"They still downstairs?" Peter asked as he entered the room.

"Yes. I have not heard anything at all and I can not sense what they are talking about," Cricket told him.

"These journals were my father's, my grandfather's and my great-grandfather's," Peter said as he held out the three leather-backed books in his hand.

Carefully, Cricket opened the one that seemed to be the oldest. He leafed through the pages cautiously, taking care not to damage the obviously fragile paper. 

"You can read the Chinese that easily?" Peter asked.

Cricket nodded, still looking over the pages. Looking through the earlier pages, he read about the things he already knew. Here was where Father met Serenity Johnson then Miss Alethea. Yes, and there was the meeting with Caleb Brown and his family. 

Cricket read through the journal as Peter watched. Suddenly the younger man had stopped reading, drawing his dark brows into a puzzled frown.

"What's the matter?" Peter asked.

Looking up, Cricket said, "Here is where the lines divide."

Peter looked at the passage Cricket pointed to. It took him much longer to read than Cricket did.

"I don't get it. He says he had a choice of routes to take and took the south one," Peter said.

"Yes but taking the north one would have led him to the Cheyenne encampment where he met my mother. Here--you may see for yourself," Cricket said, picking up one of the books he had set out.

Peter turned the volume over in his hands. It was the same book that Cricket held but it seemed newer. As he turned the pages, he saw that everything was identical until he got to the same place Cricket had pointed out in the other journal. 

"Well I'll be damned," Peter said softly as he continued to read, "Is there another book? This one ends."

"This was the last one Father had," Cricket told him as he held out another volume.

As Peter continued to read, Cricket thought about the journal. It was a gift from Miss Alethea. She knew that his father could never have afforded the book with the embossed name on front. He had only accepted the gift after a long discussion with her. It was Cricket who finally convinced him, simply by saying one may not place value in possessions but a gift, thoughtfully given by a friend, was priceless. 

"I've got it!" Peter exclaimed.

This time, Cricket was not startled by Peter's outburst. He looked at him and asked, "What have you found?"

"You've never read this one?" Peter asked, tapping the cover of the journal he held.

"No. It was too new. Father did not think it was time," Cricket explained.

"I think you should," Peter told him.

"That really is not a good idea right now," Cricket protested.

The very thought of actually reading his father's latest thoughts twisted the young man's insides like a knife. Reading the journal from Peter's…great-grandfather had actually almost brought him to tears, thinking that to everyone else in this house his father had been dead a very long time.

"You don't understand, Cricket. It's all in here. At least I think it is. I can't read the Chinese all that well," Peter said as he held the journals out.

"At the risk of repeating myself, Peter, what are you talking about?" Cricket asked, refusing to take the journals.

"You being Shao-Lin. Come on, we have to go show Pop and the others," Peter said, heading for the basement doorway.

"Peter, I do not think they want to be disturbed," Cricket stated, holding his arm across the door to stop him.

"Come on, will ya?" Peter replied, grabbing hold of his elbow and pulling him along with him down the stairs.

The two young men stopped at the bottom step. Caine, Matthew and Lo Si looked up as one. Peter rethought his impulse to come down to the basement when he saw the look in Lo Si's eyes.

"This is very important. We cannot be disturbed," the old man stated.

"I told you so," Cricket whispered to Peter.

Caine sensed that Peter believed what he had to say was important and held out his hand, beckoning both young men forward, "Peter, what is so important?"

"We were upstairs comparing these journals and I think I found something that will clear stuff up," Peter replied.

Caine raised an eyebrow as he accepted the three books from his son. He looked at the newer ones then up at Cricket.

"These were your father's?" he asked Cricket.

Cricket nodded, his eyes suddenly unreadable, "Yes. I do not know why I even took them with me. It just seemed right."

"Perhaps it was," Caine commented as the two young men sat on either side of him.

"See, Pop, look at this part here," Peter said as he opened the newest-looking journal.

Caine looked where his son was pointing. Before even reading the lines, it struck him that this was the same handwriting from his grandfather's journal. It was amazing. Shaking his head to clear that thought he began to read:

Nov. 1899 _I find my thoughts turning very often to my son. In all ways but one Cricket is a Shao-Lin Master. Others would say he is too young but I have recorded all his training in these pages. To achieve the level of Master at such a young age is possible if one is raised from birth as a Shao-Lin and is also the only student. But for the brands that he lacks on his forearms, my son is Shao-Lin._

"See what I mean, Pop?" Peter asked when Caine finally looked up.

"I do, my son. Master, I believe that Peter has found an answer for us," Caine said.

Lo Si and Matthew read the journal together is silence. While they were occupied, Caine glanced at Cricket. Looking at his face confirmed what Caine was sensing--the young man was quite upset. Caine put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You are troubled?" he asked.

"It is of no matter," Cricket replied, his eyes staring into nothing.

"It is if you are so troubled," Caine gently insisted.

Cricket turned to face the man who looked so much like his father and said, "To all of you, reading that journal is a window to the past. You all speak of my father as a dead man…"

"And to you he still lives," Caine stated.

Cricket nodded and the tears he had been holding in began to fall. Caine put a fatherly arm around the young man's shoulders, offering what little comfort he could. He knew that the young man felt the loss of the only parent he ever knew very strongly.

"My grandfather's…your father's Master Po once told him 'Between father and son there is a bridge which neither time nor death can shatter; each stands at one end needing to cross and meet'. It may be that your father's physical presence is gone but will he not live on in your heart and memories?" Caine asked as kindly as he could.

"And I think it was his Master Kan that said 'when we truly love it is never lost'" Peter added.

By the time Matthew and Lo Si had finished their conversation, Cricket was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Understand, child, that I do not say this to disparage your father but this cannot be taken as evidence that you are Shao-Lin. It is the opinion of one man," Lo Si said.

"Master, do you deny what you and I have both sensed?" Caine asked.

"I do not, but it is the brands that seal the commitment to the Tao," Lo Si stated.

"Yet it is all here, everything that was done," Matthew added.

They all stood there quietly, thinking over the puzzle that Cricket presented. Once again, it was Peter who broke the thoughtful silence, "Isn't there such a thing as a Shao-Lin challenge exam?"

"A…challenge exam?" Caine asked.

"When a cop from another jurisdiction wants to join the Sloanville force, he usually doesn't have to go through the academy. They give him an exam like all the cadets take for a final and test him on the local laws. If he passes then he joins the force as a regular cop--not a rookie," Peter explained.

Caine, Matthew and Lo Si looked at each other silently then at Peter.

"That is an excellent idea!" Lo Si exclaimed.

Peter shrugged and with a grin said, "I get them every now and then."

It was Matthew who tuned to Cricket and asked, "And you, my older brother--is this what you want as well?"

"It is. I know that one should not have ambitions but being Shao-Lin outwardly as well as inwardly would please me," Cricket replied.

"Good, good. Having you come to live with me will be good company for an old man," Matthew stated, affectionately patting the younger man's shoulder.

"Uh…so what now?" Peter asked.

"We return to the exhibit hall, of course. Did you forget the campfire tales, Peter?" Lo Si asked, as he headed back up the stairs.

Upstairs…

When he got back into the Ancient's living room, Cricket began putting his few belongings back in his backpack. The silk wrapping had fallen away from one object, revealing the jade dragon incense burner.

"That is absolutely beautiful," Peter stated as Cricket gently buffed the jade statue.

"He gave it to me when I was twelve," Cricket said, gesturing toward the Ancient.

"Ah, I am glad to see you have kept it," Lo Si said as he came over.

"Of course I did, Master. Aside from its actual purpose, this dragon reminds me of that trip to San Francisco. It was a good trip," Cricket said, wrapping the dragon and shaking his head over a memory.

"You see--you are smiling, my young friend. As long as you have your memories, you will have your father," Caine told him as Cricket put the package into the backpack.

"Do you know that that trip was the only time I can recall him raising his voice to me?" Cricket asked, grinning openly now.

"Your father yelled at you and you think it's funny?" Peter asked, recalling the times either Caine or Paul had yelled at him.

"I certainly do. My cousin Zeke is much older than me--by fourteen years at least. On that trip he taught me to play poker. Father was not pleased after I made the mistake of beating Zeke more than once. 'Being good at bad habits is not something to aspire to' is what he said," Cricket replied.

The others laughed out loud then, picturing this sober young man as a child playing poker and winning over the man who taught him to play.

"I knew, even then, that you had a spark in you, my boy," Lo Si stated, his eyes twinkling.

"Will you join us at the exhibit hall or do you wish to stay here and rest?" Caine asked Cricket.

"To be honest, sir, I would like to join you but I need to wash up and change my clothes first. It has been a very long day," Cricket said.

"I could let him use the shower at my place and then we could come back," Peter offered, knowing what the Ancient's plumbing was like.

"Yes, this is a good idea. It will give us time to arrange what needs to be done," Lo Si stated, shooing both young men out the door.

When they got to his apartment, Peter had to show Cricket how to work the shower controls. Cricket had never encountered indoor plumbing before and he found the hot water quite relaxing. As he stood under the spray, he was able to use the techniques he knew to find the center of calm in his mind. By the time he had toweled off and gotten dressed, the young man felt much more like himself than he had since opening the door to Paul Blaisdell's cabin. After tying back his hair, he stepped out into the living room.

"That was very refreshing. Thank you for bringing me here, Peter," Cricket said.

"Don't sweat it, we're family. Are you sure you don't want to dry your hair? It's freezing out there," Peter stated, noting Cricket's hair was still damp.

"I would rather not. It may seem silly to you but the dryer makes me…uneasy, you could say," Cricket explained.

"It's okay. I understand. I felt like that the first few days at the orphanage. Come on then, Pop'll be waiting for us," Peter said.

"Besides," Cricket said as he put on his jacket, "I used to do the same thing at home and the weather there is much colder."

The two young men were very surprised when they walked back into the Ancient's living room. Sitting there on the sofa with Matthew and Caine were Paul and Annie. Paul stood up as soon as he saw Cricket.

"Uh oh, you're in trouble," Peter said under his breath to Cricket.

"Why would I be-," Cricket began.

Paul walked over to Cricket and, fixing a glare on him, said, "Don't you ever do that to me again. You disappeared into thin air!"

"Mr. Blaisdell, I am very sorry. I did not mean to worry you. I saw the Ancient and he took me here straight away," Cricket said, straightening up at the no-nonsense tone in Paul's voice.

Paul stared at the young man for a little while longer, realizing he was addressing him as he would one of his own children. Soon enough, a smile broke through.

"So long as you're okay. I'd like you to meet my wife Annie," Paul said.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Blaisdell. Your husband and Peter have told me a lot about you," Cricket said as he took the hand Annie offered him.

"Nice to meet you too. Not too many people set my husband back on his heels like you did," Annie replied.

At the exhibit hall…

Cricket took the ride back to the hall with Annie and Paul since there was not enough room in Peter's Stealth. When the Caines met up with Peter's colleagues from the precinct, they introduced Cricket to them as a 'relative' without explaining any further. 

The crowd for the campfire tales was fairly large. The event was held outside so that a genuine feeling of the Old West could be made. The enraptured crowd listened as one after the other, speakers told legends, sang songs, or even just plain told real life stories of their ancestors' lives from the Old West. Cricket listened with great interest as several representatives of different Indian tribes told their stories.

"This one reminds me of my great-uncle. Shaking Thunder was a good story-teller too," Cricket whispered to Matthew, as an old man told a story.

"Then you must tell me these tales yourself one day," Matthew told him.

At the end of the stories, the crowd broke up. Cricket was helping Matthew to his feet when the old Indian storyteller approached them.

"I noticed you found my stories amusing, my young friend," the man said.

"I did. I haven't heard them since I was much younger," Cricket stated.

"What tribe are you?" the man asked.

"My grandfather was Cheyenne," Cricket replied.

"Ah, I thought so. You have the look of a Cheyenne. I have to leave but if you ever want to hear some more stories, come visit me," the old man said as he handed Cricket a card.

Cricket looked rather thoughtfully at the card he had been handed then tucked it in his jacket pocket for safe-keeping.

Decisions…

Cricket spent the night at the Ancient's home. He refused the old man's offer of the bedroom, choosing instead to sleep on the sofa. He woke with the morning light, feeling rested and refreshed. After washing up, the young man began his morning exercises. He realized half way through them that Lo Si had joined him in the graceful forms and acknowledged the old man with a smile. 

"Good morning, Master," Cricket said, bowing to Lo Si when they finished the exercises.

"Good morning to you, my young friend. You are feeling well this morning?" Lo Si asked.

"Yes, sir. I don't usually sleep that much but this was the first time in a while that I could sleep without worrying about my surroundings," Cricket replied.

"Good. Now, come sit with me in the kitchen. There is much to discuss," Lo Si told him.

Much like he did the day before, Cricket made tea for them both before sitting at the table. Lo Si sniffed appreciatively at his cup before taking a sip.

"Ah, you make good tea, Cricket. I like cinnamon too," the old man said with a grin.

"It is something I got used to as a child," Cricket said.

"You still _are_ a child. Now, I know you are wondering about the decision on the Shao-Lin challenge exam," Lo Si began, chortling slightly over the phrase Peter had invented.

"I admit to curiosity," Cricket admitted.

"The Masters of Shambhala approve of this idea. They knew of this problem but chose not to tell me. It was a test of my skills," Lo Si said, "to see what answers I might come up with."

"Master, is there a temple here in this country?" Cricket asked.

"There used to be two. The only one left is the Dao Temple. When your escort arrives, he will take you there," Lo Si informed him.

"Escort?" Cricket asked.

"I have spoken to Kwai Chang Caine, Peter's father, and he has said he knows who will be a suitable person. Until he arrives, you will merely enjoy your stay with us," Lo Si replied.

Cricket nodded, biting back any more questions about the escort. He had a feeling that the old man would not answer them and would probably tell him he asked too many questions. 

Over the next few days, Cricket spent a lot of time with his new 'family'. Lo Si and Caine took him all over Chinatown while Peter took him to all the sight-seeing attractions that Sloanville had. While the young man enjoyed the visits, he found that he had to use the herbal concoction for breathing problems more often. 

It was two weeks after the basement conference when Cricket's escort arrived in Sloanville. Cricket was alone in Lo Si's house when he sensed the approach of the old man along with Caine and some one he did not know. As he was in the middle of devotions before the small altar the old man kept, Cricket did not look up until he was through. 

"Cricket, I would like you to meet Master Khan. He will be the one escorting you to the Dao Temple," Caine said.

Cricket bowed respectfully to the priest who stood there with Caine and Lo Si. Unlike the other two, this man kept his head shaved, Cricket noted. The young man did not even try to guess his age but he sensed great wisdom and patience in the sturdily-built new comer.

"Pleased to meet you," Khan said, holding out his hand after returning Cricket's bow.

"The pleasure is mine, Master," Cricket returned as he shook the proffered hand.

"Master Khan was one of the teaching masters at the temple Peter and I lived in. He will take you to the Dao temple and stay as long as necessary," Caine said.

"I am honored by your help, Master. When do we leave?" Cricket asked.

"Whenever you're ready," Khan replied.

Cricket shrugged and said, "I would like to say goodbye to Peter and the Blaisdells first if that is possible."

"Peter will be off work in a few hours. Perhaps he will take you over to see Paul and Annie," Caine offered.

"That sounds fine. We can leave in the morning," Khan stated.

Peter was more than happy to drive Cricket over to his foster parents' home. The Blaisdells greeted both young men affectionately. 

"I hear you're leaving us soon," Annie said as she took Cricket's jacket.

"Tomorrow morning, Mrs. Blaisdell," Cricket replied.

"That's too bad, but I want you to know you're always welcome here. I wonder if I could ask a favor of you, though," Annie said as she ushered her husband and the two young men into the living room.

"What is it, ma'am? I will do anything I can to help you," Cricket said as Annie sat next to him on the sofa.

"Oh, it's nothing like that. Would you mind if I touched your face?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Of course not," Cricket replied as he took her hand and brought it to his cheek.

Cricket knew from his father's tales of his beloved Master Po, and from meeting his friend Serenity Johnson, that touching another's face was the way many blind people 'saw'. He found himself smiling as Annie touched his face.

"A handsome young man, but much too serious. I get the feeling that smile is very rare," Annie stated as she lowered her hands.

"That may be so but it is a genuine one," Cricket told her.

Peter was amazed at the lack of jealousy he was feeling. He thought that seeing his foster parents welcoming the young man would have made him feel pouty and envious. Instead, he was quite happy they accepted him so easily.

When it came time to leave, Paul escorted the young men to the door.

"Be careful, will you? I want you to come back and visit us in one piece," Paul said to Cricket.

"I certainly intend to. Thank you again, Mr. Blaisdell, for everything. If it weren't for you, I would never have found my way," Cricket said, enfolding the older man in an embrace.

"Don't mention it," Paul said gruffly, though his eyes were bright.

With a single step…

The next morning came clear and cold. Both Master Khan and Lo Si joined Cricket in his morning exercises. Khan and Cricket had just finished packing their things when they heard footsteps pounding up Lo Si's front steps. Peter, slightly winded, burst into the room.

"Oh good, you're still here. I thought I'd missed you," the young detective panted.

"My son, did I not say they would still be here?" Caine asked as he entered the room at a more sedate pace.

Peter grinned and shrugged, "Well, you never know. Just wanted to say good bye and good luck."

"Thank you, Peter. You have been very kind," Cricket said.

"Don't mention it. You're kinda like the little brother I never had," Peter replied fondly.

Before following Master Khan out of the house, Cricket gave farewell hugs to both Caines and Lo Si. The young man did not look back as they walked down the street. At the end of the block he stopped and turned around. Seeing that Peter, Caine and Lo Si were still watching, Cricket waved to them before heading off again.

October…

As his foster father settled himself into the passenger seat of his Stealth, Peter asked, "Car giving you trouble?"

Peter had been sound asleep on his day off when the phone rang. Paul was calling from the mechanic's, asking for a ride home since his car would be there all day.

"Nah, just a major service. Sorry to wake you up so early," Paul said, mentally shaking his head. It was early for Peter, even it was almost 11 AM.

"No problem," Peter replied with a yawn.

"I wouldn't have bothered you but your sisters and mother should already be gone to the grand opening of that new outlet mall," Paul explained.

When Peter pulled his car into the Blaisdell driveway, he was still not quite awake. That is, he was not quite awake until he looked up.

"Paul, didn't you say that Mom and the girls shouldn't be home?" he asked, pointing toward the roof.

"I see it too," Paul stated as he watched smoke gently curling from the chimney.

With a silent nod, both men got out of the car, silently closing the doors. With guns drawn, they approached the house. 

"It's locked. No sign of forced entry," Peter whispered as he put his hand on the doorknob.

"Annie would never leave the fireplace going. Something's not right," Paul replied in an equally hushed voice.

Stepping into the house, Peter motioned silently that they should split up and search the house. Paul nodded and crept toward the stairs. He carefully made his way upstairs, praying that the steps would not creak. He was just about to open the door to his bedroom when he heard a noise coming from Peter's old room. The door was ajar and he could see a man with short, dark hair bending over the footlocker Peter still kept there. 

Clicking his gun's hammer to ready, Paul pushed the door opened and said, "Freeze."

The man froze instantly. His back was turned to Paul. A rather familiar voice then said, "How is it that every time we meet, you are pointing a gun at me?"

"What the-?" Paul sputtered, suddenly recognizing the voice.

The man stood up and turned around slowly. Paul recognized his 'intruder' instantly.

"Cricket, when did you get here?" Paul asked, unreadying his gun and holstering it.

"About half an hour ago. Mrs. Blaisdell said she was going shopping but I could stay here and wait for you to come home," Cricket replied, lowering his arms as a grin spread across his face.

"It's good to see you, kid," Paul said as he gave the young man a quick hug.

"I am glad to see you too," Cricket told him.

"Come on. Peter's downstairs looking for our 'intruder'," Paul said, as he headed for the door.

Heading down the steps, Paul took a surreptitious look at Cricket. His hair was much shorter and his complexion was darker. Aside from the outward differences, he sensed an inward change in him. The young man seemed to radiate a calm not unlike Peter's father. As they reached the bottom of the steps, Paul could hear Peter approaching.

"Paul, I heard you talking to someone. Who--Cricket?" Peter asked as he caught sight of the young man.

"Mom let him in before she left," Paul explained.

"You look great, pal. The hair almost threw me off," Peter said.

"I could hardly take the test without the traditional shaving," Cricket stated, giving one of the Caine family shrugs.

"Come on. Let's have some coffee or something," Paul said as he headed for the kitchen.

Cricket declined the coffee Paul made and instead had tea made from herbs in his bag. The three of them sat at the kitchen table. Peter looked at Cricket and shook his head.

"I couldn't do it--not after finally growing all my hair back when I was a kid," he stated, absently running a hand through his own hair.

"It was the very first haircut I have had in my entire life. As I told Master Khan, the only problem I have had is that my neck is cold," Cricket said with a chuckle.

"I guess it would be," Paul stated.

When they had first met, Cricket's hair was just above waist-length. Now, it was barely long enough to touch his ears. Paul chuckled to himself as he watched Peter run his hand through his hair again. He remembered Peter's dislike of haircuts as a teenager.

"So, what did you finally end up doing?" Peter asked.

"Master Khan took me straight away to the temple. I was only there for six months before taking the test. After that, I asked the master to accompany to someplace I have always wanted to see," Cricket replied.

"Where's that?" Paul asked.

"The Grand Canyon. My uncle told me about it as a child. He said that the Indians there call it the 'house of stone and light'," Cricket replied.

"We went there on a family vacation once. I couldn't stand the edges," Peter stated, shuddering at the thought of the canyon's depth.

"It was beautiful. So, now I have been to two houses of stone and light--the canyon and the temple. While I was there, I looked up the old storyteller who was at the exhibit. We spoke for a long time and he told me all the stories he knew. He said that he wanted them to be remembered and retold after he was gone," Cricket said.

"What's next for you? Have you been to see Pop and Lo Si yet?" Peter asked.

"I have. The Ancient is making arrangements for me to go to Ste. Adele. As soon as they are completed, I will be going to Matthew," Cricket replied.

Cricket accepted Annie's invitation to stay in the Blaisdell home that night. He truly liked the family and was grateful for their acceptance. As he lay on what Annie told him used to be Peter's bed watching the moon, the young man thought about the past eight months of his life. Something he mentioned to Master Khan came to mind.

__

"Master, I accept that my destiny is to join Matthew as a Guardian of the chalice but it bothers me that my being there means that his life is close to an end. He is the closest link I have to my father," Cricket stated.

The two of them had been walking down the road, just after leaving the Dao Temple.

"Remember the words of your father's Master Po: 'In every loss there is a gain as in every gain there is a loss'," Khan told him.

Cricket nodded thoughtfully, " And 'with each ending comes a new beginning' as my father himself once said. I will just have to cherish what I have while I have it."

One week later…just outside Ste. Adele…

Cricket walked along the hard-packed dirt road, taking in his surroundings. The French countryside is beautiful, he thought. There are many more mountains than in Feather Bluffs. After the plane trip to Paris (not a particularly enjoyable experience, he mused), the young man made his way towards Ste. Adele, following the directions Matthew had sent him in a letter. A lift from an English tourist had brought him within ten miles of the village. Now, he was just approaching a farmhouse. A middle-aged man in rough working clothes met him at the house's front gate.

"Pardonnez-moi, monsieur. Je cherche a Matthew Caine," Cricket said, carefully pronouncing the French words.

The farmer stared at him briefly then a smile lit his weather-beaten face, "Ah, I speak some English. I learned it from Matthew. You are his young relative?"

"Yes, sir," Cricket replied.

"Good, good. He has been waiting for you. Follow me. I will take you to him," the farmer said, "My name is Jean-Paul Picard."

"I am pleased to meet you, sir," Cricket said as he followed the man.

A short walk across a blooming meadow brought them to an ancient-looking church made of stone. Just behind it was a small cottage and that was where Picard led young man. The farmer knocked and waited for Matthew to come to the door. The old man's face lit up at the sight of Cricket.

"Ah, Jean-Paul, thank you for bringing him here," Matthew said.

"A pleasure, Matthew, but now I must get back to work," Picard said, nodding politely before turning away.

Matthew looked up at Cricket, the smile still on his aged face. He took the younger man by the elbow and led him inside the cottage, "Welcome home, child."


End file.
